save a few of the Union men.

Early as it was, Little Compton saw two flags floating from an
improvised flagstaff on top of the court-house. One was the flag of the
State, with its pillars, its sentinel, and its legend of "Wisdom,
Justice, and Moderation." The design of the other was entirely new to
Little Compton. It was a pine tree on a field of white, with a
rattlesnake coiled at its roots, and the inscription, "DON'T TREAD ON
ME!" A few hours later Uncle Abner Lazenberry made his appearance in
front of Compton's store. He had just hitched his horse to the rack near
the court-house.

"Merciful heavens" he exclaimed, wiping his red face with a red
handkerchief, "is the Ole Boy done gone an' turned hisself loose? I
hearn the racket, an' I sez to the ole woman, sez I: 'I'll fling the
saddle on the gray mar' an' canter to town an' see what in the
dingnation the matter is. An' ef the worl's about to fetch a lurch, I'll
git me another dram an' die happy,' sez I. Whar's Jack Walthall? He can
tell his Uncle Abner all about it."

"Well, sir," said Little Compton, "the State has seceded, and the boys
are celebrating."

"I know'd it," cried the old man angrily. "My min' tole me so." Then he
turned and looked at the flags flying from the top of the court-house.
"Is them rags the things they er gwine to fly out'n the Union with?" he
exclaimed scornfully. "Why, bless your soul an body, hit'll take bigger
wings than them! Well, sir, I'm sick; I am that away. I wuz born in the
Union, an' I'd like mighty well to die thar. Ain't it mine? ain't it
our'n? Jess as shore as you're born, thar's trouble ahead--big trouble.
You're from the North, ain't you?" Uncle Abner asked, looking curiously
at Little Compton.

"Yes, sir, I am," Compton replied; "that is, I am from New Jersey, but
they say New Jersey is out of the Union."

Uncle Abner did not respond to Compton's smile. He continued to gaze at
him significantly.

"Well," the old man remarked somewhat bluntly, "you better go back where
you come from. You ain't got nothin' in the roun' worl' to do with all
this hellabaloo. When the pinch comes, as come it must, I'm jes gwine to
swap a nigger for a sack er flour an' settle down; but you had better go
back where you come from."

Little Compton knew the old man was friendly; but his words, so solemnly
and significantly uttered, made a deep impression. The words recalled
to Compton's mind the spectacle of the man from Vermont who had